Bring me back to life
by Darbracken
Summary: A songfic for the song in the title. Quatre and Heero have been through a tough time, what is Quatre's real feelings though as the wing pilot bares all?


Bring me to life.  
  
Category: Romance, Songific, slight angst. Pairings: 1x4 *hears the gaps and grins* Short Description: A songific dedicated to Heero and Quatre. Who said the perfect soldier couldn't live a little? Author: Moonlight, Ponyta95@hotmail.com Warnings: I do not own Gundam Wing or any of its characters though I'd sincerely like to. I do not own Bring me back to life either, Evanescence does, fantastic song though, buy it some time. I'm not sure if this has been done before so I apologize if it's already been done or if it generally sucks otherwise. Please don't sue me!   
  
.:: How can you see into my eyes like open doors, leading you down into my core. ::. Light eyelashes parted pronouncing the dawn of a longing look. Aqua meeting cobalt, fire, lust, passion and love swirling, held within that simple look. Displayed, his inner, his true thoughts, of course he wished for this moment to continue, to be consumed, consummated by Heero, to give him everything he had and more if it were possible. His frail heart faltered as it rushed up his throat into his mouth to speak, to make it known that he was ready for whatever was to come. He paused to swallow it once more, though it spread across his cheeks in the form of a light blush. "I'm ready.." .:: Where I've become so numb. You fill my soul. ::. Moonlight scattered across the room, accentuating, touching things with its delicate silver fingertips, watching, waiting, brushing Heero's face. Those oceanic depths followed the moonlight's trail, dipping into every concave of the perfect soldier's body. It seemed surreal, a dream a mere fantasy that they would be here, but his empathic heart told him so different. Stirred from its cage, the sleep that had been imposed on it to save it from the slaughter he committed. It battered, rapping on his ribcage begging to be released, it's call unheeded, the union that was about to unfold giving wings to his spirit and letting it soar, he only wished that Heero felt as moved. .:: My spirit's sleeping somewhere cold until you find it there and lead it back home. ::. They were pilots, soldiers, young men cast aside by the world. Had they not done their duty, they had saved the colonies had they not. Why did war come back to kill them. They were too young to die, too young to fight, they should be free, not imbedded into cold war and shattered psyches. Why were they bred to die, trained to kill, why couldn't they be normal. It hurt, it pained Quatre's heart so, he had hidden it so but Heero had somehow seen that and as he tired to unravel the Japanese pilot's psyche so Heero tried to retrieve his soul and bring it back to him before it died. .:: Wake me up, wake up inside, I can't wake up, wake me up inside. Save me. ::. Reaching out a slim hand he grabbed the muscular shoulder above him, an almost frenzied look in his eyes, as he bid the memories, those thoughts to leave him be, to let him live, to let him love. He shifted swiftly to Heero, pushing against him with a light motion as not to disturb his ribs but yet portray the urgency of his need, the desire to feel alive, to not exist but to live. Maybe he was dead, a lost soul, a lost name, a lost memory but that made him feel alive, it made him feel real, needed, not just a number or an object but a real person with real feelings. .:: Call my name and save me from the dark, bid my blood to run, before I come undone. ::. "Heero" that name slipped so easy from his lips, velvet glossing satin almost. It throbbed, hung in the air, clung there in fact before his silky lips pressed back to the others with a swift delving motion, fire and passion running into his blood, his heart beating, thump after thump the only noise in the otherwise silently dark room. It was almost driving him to distraction, this waiting, this slow build up of pressure. The movement in the symphony they had played needing its final crescendo before it could fade and level the melody in his soul, forever burned there. .:: Save me from the nothing I've become. ::. His fingers darted across the warm skin, gently following it, compressing it slightly below the swift movements as he endeavoured to be at one with the perfect soldier, to know the every texture of his skin, the every fold and curve of his body. Was he a number, was he a nothing, was he a forgotten hero, was he a hero at all, was he right in trying to remove the training from Heero's mind. Everything seemed odd, rather like trying to reach out in a mist to something but never quite getting there, never quite understanding. The only thing that felt right was this now, here in Heero's room with Heero not anyone else, not the perfect soldier, not Shinginami's love just Heero. .:: Now that I know what I'm without, you can't just leave me, breathe into me and make me real, bring me to life. Bring me to life. ::. Dancing with death's lover was a dangerous task indeed, what would occur if Duo was to know of this, would Heero leave his side, he'd said he wouldn't, but that thought, that worry nagged at Quatre's mind. It mattered not, all that mattered was the here and now, the future was irrelevant, if he died, if Heero died this moment was theirs, nothing could take that from them, not war, not disease, not death not even Duo. .:: Frozen inside without your touch, without your love, darling only you are the life among the dead. ::. The house was quiet, haunted with the ghosts of the past, creeping, sliding silently along the walls, the ghosts of those they had killed. Men, women, children, the faceless masses just classed as the enemy, and then there was Trowa. They'd killed him too, he was dead by both of their hands, drowning them in his blood. Yet they lived, they were still alive, frozen timeless in a past they could not rid themselves of but had to cut the binds to. There needed to be life, new life on the foundations of bloodied wars, this was what was trying to be endued into Heero, Quatre wanted him to be able to live again, have a new life where he was no longer an emotionless killer, a machine, just a boy once more. .:: All this time I can't believe I couldn't see, kept in the dark, but you were there in front of me. ::. Not the most conventional of pairings, Quatre has always thought Trowa would be his first, his only but yet here he was. It had never occurred to him before the Wufei incident that Heero was a person with feelings such as these, with the ability to be the gentle lover he had always longed for. The dark haired enigma had stunned him, startled him almost with this other self he had, the real him, the him that Quatre was in love with and was waiting patiently to have take him. .:: I've been sleeping a thousand years it seems, got to open my eyes to everything without a thought, without a voice, without a soul don't let me die here. ::. Veils closed as Quatre's eyes drew closed, thin traces of perspiration washing over his ivory skin seeming to make it glisten, sparkle as though he was not of this world at all. He was ready for the pain, the pleasure, everything that embodied Heero, the danger, the gentleness, the frightened shell of a boy that Quatre had been privileged to see, to come to know. If he died here, now he would never be parted from this thought, this desire. .::There must be something more::. 


End file.
